


The Bard's Game

by bioticbooty



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Comedy, F/F, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbooty/pseuds/bioticbooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leliana recruited Isabela to help her infiltrate an Orlesian dinner party. Of course things never go entirely to plan, especially not when Isabela is involved and running the show. Hijinks, shenanigans, and an unexpected encounter. Written for the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bard's Game

**Author's Note:**

> I suspect Isabela and Leliana shenanigans would be absolutely hilarious. Writing them running an operation together was way more exciting than I anticipated it would ever be and I'm tremendously happy I chose this art piece. 
> 
> Writing a story to go along with the adorable art piece by sqbr was so much fun, and participating in the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang as a whole was even more fun! I hope you all enjoy the story. -bioticbooty

Isabela didn’t particularly care for the decor chosen by the Orlesians. Too fancy. Too pretty. Not enough dirt and character or dents and scratches. Their vases were practically as stuck up as their _owners_ and everything screamed prim and proper and it made Isabela _itch_.

Not just with the urge to steal some of it and sell it off.

Hawke would have stuck her nose up at this place and insisted that they make the party more _interesting_.

The party could certainly use more Hawke.

Isabela could use more Hawke, and not just for the party shenanigans.

Making use of those fancy, clean Orlesians suites would be the cherry on top of a fun evening spent ruining a perfectly good Orlesian mansion. Though the fake beard would probably get in the way of kissing. Not as much as one would think, but kissing without it was preferable.

She slipped back into the main parlor, quietly shutting the door behind her. Posing as a servant certainly had its benefits, namely that no one questioned her arrival or looked at her off for coming through a door she probably shouldn’t have.

Except for the serving girl directly in front of her, looking at her suspiciously. Of course servants would know where other servants should and should not be, and behind this door was _definitely_ one of the latter.

Isabela smiled and mustered up her best bedroomy eyes. “’Ello beautiful.”

She finished it off with a wink and the serving girl blushed, glancing around the room, before slipping up next to Isabela and whispering in her ear. “Meet me in the cellar.”

It was remarkable how a little flirting could turn a situation around so quickly.

Isabela growled approvingly and the girl flushed even more before departing, taking it as a promise of future mischief.

In fact, the cellar was _not_ available. Isabela’d had to improvise around that, promising the guard in tow that she knew another place, slipping her hand down his pants to keep him pliant.

Later, she’d slipped a dagger there instead in the privacy of a small storage closet. She wasn’t sure which has surprised him more: that she was actually a woman or that the dagger was that close to his favorite bits.

She found Leliana mingling in the parlor overlooking the garden, talking to a noble with a stick so far up his ass it was a wonder he could walk.

Now Leliana was a girl who knew her way around a bedroom. Though if anyone were to judge by her current profession, Isabela was sure no one would ever suspect such a thing out of the tiny, redheaded chantry seeker. She hadn’t the pleasure in years, way before Hawke and the deep emotional connection she was sure she’d never actually find. Back when she still had her ship and could rightfully call herself Captain.

Hard to be a Captain without a ship.

Perhaps that was why Hawke had put a sail on their bed. Wicked one, Hawke. She knew all the right buttons to press, the right ways to get her riled up.

Isabela loved it. Though she pouted about the significant lack of a mast.

“Le’lia,” Isabela deepened the register of her voice, gruffing it up for the part. Not too hard considering all her years belting out orders on her ship and her naturally low tenor in the first place. “Urgent message from the Count.”

There wasn’t a message. There wasn’t even a _Count_.

It was their phrase they’d worked out prior to infiltrating the party with assumed identities, indicating that Isabela had gotten the goods and everything was ready to go. Namely themselves.

They’d already been there far too long for comfort, but like with most missions involving Hawke, the plan was merely an idea of execution and not what would actually happen because inevitably things were more complicated and everything went to hell.

Or doors would have unanticipated locks forcing Isabela to improvise.

Or guards.

The guards were more fun than the locks, because as much as the Orlesians pretended to be a prissy lot, they were remarkably easy to manipulate and seduce into doing what she wanted. And Isabela was a master of seduction.

Judging from _that_ , you’d think she’d have been the one to pursue Hawke, and while the idea had crossed her mind because Hawke was a rare kind of brash and crazy Isabela rarely encountered, it was Hawke who’d kissed her first, Hawke who’d taken the first step, Hawke who’d asked her to stay over. Isabela was used to pursuing, not being pursued. Normally she’d have rebuked the advances on that merit alone, but Hawke was... Hawke was something else and while she’d tried to say no and twist the game around so she was the pursuer and not the pursuee, she’d found herself instead saying yes and _enjoying_ it.

Of course, Hawke was ruthless when it came to such matters. But ruthless in all the right ways that tickled Isabela’s fancy.

In any case, the Orlesian guards were only too eager to fall to the attentions of young servant ‘boy’ wandering the halls looking for a bit of trouble.

She’d almost lost her mustache in the last kissing session that got her into the master bedroom where the safe was located. A quick kiss on the lips that promised all sorts of mischief and the guard had been too willing to open the door so they could go in for a quick round on the big bed, tossing in the sheets with the nobility none the wiser.

Orlesians were downright dirty.

Too bad they covered it up with lace and frills and too much pretension.

“I better see to the message,” Leliana replied demurely, excusing herself from the Noble’s presence. Displeasure was evident on his face, but in true Orlesian fashion, he simply nodded and flitted away looking like a ruffled bird in his ridiculously frilly outfit. A man should never wear that much lace.

“How long till they notice?”

Isabela shrugged. “Depends on if they find the bodies in the dressing room or not. Or the one in the broom closet.”

Leliana grabbed her by her elbow and steered her through the crowd, looking for all intents and purposes as if she was upset with the message her servant had delivered, and not upset with her friend for leaving a trail of unconscious guards. “Maker’s breath, Isabela!”

“They were in my way and had to be dealt with,” she answered. “Besides, I gave them a good round before knocking them over their heads with the flat of my dagger.”

“What do you think Hawke’s going to say about that?”

“Why she wasn’t able to come along, probably. I’m getting all the fun out of this one while she’s at home. Of course, Fenris and Anders could have another row which would be a _shame_ to miss. I do like it when they argue. Especially when Sebastian tries to step in and calm them down. Though I guess it works in that both Fenris and Anders side together against _him_ , so maybe I’m not giving him as much credit as he deserves.”

Once outside in the upper terrace, Leliana finally released her elbow. “Where’s the papers?”

“Hiding behind this bloody corset smashing my boobs down.”

“Are you sure they’re the right ones?”

“I looked for the keywords you told me: Divine, rebellion, templars, underhanded plots, etc.” She pulled the papers out of her corset, carefully so they wouldn’t rip, and handed them over to Leliana. “Pretty boring read considering the doomsday contents, but I guess no one ever taught Fauvier how to write better than a dried prune.”

“He always was pretty stupid, even before he decided to conspire against the Divine.”

“With Tevinter’s aid.”

Leliana raised an eyebrow at that.

She was still trying to work out whether Leliana was a Seeker or not. A quick rifling while they camped at night on the way here hadn’t revealed much in the way of answers. Of course, Isabela could have just asked. She was sure Leliana would tell her what her connection to the Chantry was, but it was more fun this way. Teasing out details through small encounters and words.

It kept a girl sharp, and if this girl ever wanted to command a ship again, she’d certainly need all the practice she could get.

Of course, Hawke could simply buy her a ship and while sometimes the thought was tempting and all she’d have to say was, “You know, I really like that ship,” around Hawke and then it would be hers, she didn’t want to rely on Hawke for a ship. And not because she didn’t love Hawke or wouldn’t appreciate the gift.

It was a pride thing. Pride often landed her on hot water, but the lesson never seemed to stick that maybe she should just, for once, suck it up and move on.

“Fauvier’s been selling slaves to the Tevinter Magisters in exchange for money and resources,” Isabela continued. “Not exactly the smartest noble. The Magisters will probably assassinate him first chance they get once he’s no longer needed.”

“Better get to him before the Magisters do, then.” Leliana tucked the papers down her corset, though hers was much roomier in the bust, and looked back up at Isabela - and frowned. “Your mustache is peeling off.”

“Blast!” she fiddled with the delicate hairs, attempting to reattach them but with no luck. She’d left the sealing agent in her bags at the inn.

“Excuse me, madame?” Isabela cursed at the sudden appearance of the servant. Leliana had the foresight to gracefully turn away from her and greet the servant. “Monsieur Fauvier would like a word with you.”

Leliana nodded dismissively, the epitome of haughty nobility. She could really work the part and Isabela admired her for it. Though she’d gone on and _on_ about shoes while they were making their way down the road and had stopped repeatedly to contemplate whether or not the shoes she’d chosen were right or not. It only made Isabela that much more grateful that she’d decided to come dressed as a man. Boots were her preferred shoe of choice and not the decoratively frilly boots some of the Orlesian nobility sported, man and woman alike. She couldn’t decide which was _worse_ because both had an abundance of lace and silk flowers.

It was downright offensive. Those boots wouldn’t last a day on a ship, defeating the entire purpose of wearing boots in the first place.

Orlesians and their fashion.

The door quietly clicked shut behind her.

“The way you were fiddling with your face, I’m sure that servant thinks I have an improper relationship with you.”

“Your haughty stare probably sealed the deal,” Isabela laughed. “Of course, we once _did_ have an improper relationship, with Zevran along for the ride.”

Leliana grinned. “I remember. That innkeeper was not happy with us afterwards.”

“I paid him off.”

“Isabela!”

“With _real_ money, not my usual affair.” She ripped the mustache and beard off. No point in keeping it on if it was just going to give her away. “Mind you, he wouldn’t have minded. Sooo... don’t suppose anyone will believe I popped off for a shave, do you?”

“We better leave soon,” Leliana agreed. “Now that we have the papers, it’s just a matter of time before someone finds out they’re missing.”

“Perhaps Fauvier is politely trying to restrain you with his request for your presence. Orlesian manners and all that.”

“Orlesian manners consists of hiring a bard.”

Isabela grinned wickedly. “Good thing you’re a bard, then.”

“If we walk through the party, Fauvier is sure to spot us. And the servant knows we’re out here. He’ll probably return soon if we don’t.”

Isabela dug around in her pants, searching for the small grappling hook she’d stored there earlier. Surprising what one could hide in clothing, though she hated dealing with the extra fabric since it got in the way, she couldn’t deny the thick pants made it easier to conceal her daggers and other items so she could smuggle them in. And the Orlesians were too damned outwardly polite to suggest someone might be carrying smuggled items on their person.

“Maker Isabela, how did you fit that _in_ there?”

Isabela shrugged. “It’s amazing what you can fit beneath a slip of fabric if you’re careful.”

She walked around the terrace and glance below. It’d be too obvious if they attached the hook here and went straight down. That was exactly what anyone with a half a brain would look for. Aside from that, nobles were chattering away beside the pond and fountain, sipping their beverages and preening at each other.

“We’ll have to go up, first.”

“There’s an armory on the third floor where we can acquire some weapons.” She pointed out a room on the far side of the building, one floor above them.

“Of course it’s over there,” Isabela muttered as she unwound the thin rope from her thigh.

“It’s amazing those pants fit over your thighs.”

Isabela flashed a grin over her shoulder. “Nice to see the Chantry hasn’t destroyed your sense of humor. Seekers and Templars always were a stuffy bunch, unable to appreciate a good joke.”

“Knowing your kind of jokes, I doubt they were _good_.”

“Ouch.”

“I think the servant is returning.”

Isabela swung the hook out and up, capturing the rail on the balcony above them. “Better hang on then, love. And climb fast, otherwise that servant’s gonna get a nice look at those milky white legs of yours.”

“Might be a good distraction.”

Isabela grinned lasciviously. “You’re _definitely_ not a Seeker.”

She quickly climbed up the rope and pulled herself over the railing, boots softly thudding against the deck. A quick glance around showed the deck was empty, most of the party goers preferring to stay on the first two floors, probably because the guards would prevent most of them from going beyond. She leaned out and offered her hand to Leliana, helping her over the rail in her dress.

“Bet you’re regretting the silk now,” Isabela laughed.

“Nonsense,” Leliana countered, checking her shoes, “Daring escapes wearing dresses just makes it all the more challenging.”

“At least the shoes are more practical than some of the affairs below.”

“I know,” Leliana managed to make that sound _defeated_ rather than something _good_.

Isabela shook her head, looping her grappling hook over her shoulder before looking for a way inside. Preferably one that didn’t involve them breaking a window because that would certainly alert the guards to their presence, not to mention leave a clear trail as to where they’d been and likely where they were going. Only an idiot wouldn’t believe the armory wasn’t their first stop. The first door was locked. Heavy bolt on the inside, preventing her from simply picking the lock. She moved on.

Leliana went the opposite direction, gently prodding the windows on her side of the balcony. Her light green dress blending surprisingly well into the background in the dark.

“I forgot to ask,” Isabela started as she moved towards Leliana, her side having been checked with no favorable results, “How is the warden these days?”

“Giving Alistair hell,” Leliana replied just as her window popped open. She grinned at Isabela and then jumped through, dress trailing behind her.

Isabela followed her through and shut the window quietly behind them. “Atta girl. Someone’s got to teach that man to loosen up a bit. Pity he never accepted my offer.”

Leliana grabbed a torch off the wall and started down the corridor, dagger in the other hand.

The third floor was just as frilly as the second, though the gloom of darkness managed to dampen some of the obscene coloring of tapestries and rugs. The whole building could use a good burning. Isabela would only be too happy to oblige. But only after she’d thoroughly looted the place for gold and jewels, bringing her one step closer to that ship.

She’d already decided on sigil for the vessel, though she hadn’t picked out a name. Keeping it a secret from Hawke was hard, especially once she let it slip that she’d had the design completed. Of course, telling Hawke _now_ would ruin the surprise.

She was becoming too damned sentimental with this relationship thing. It was all Hawke’s fault.

“Where’s your lockpick?”

Isabela dug in her pocket and handed it over. She had at least three more in boots plus the two in her corset. A girl never left her room without being properly attired and accessorized. Lockpicks were a necessary accessory in a smuggler’s line of work. Though she hadn’t done much smuggling in the past five years or so.

Something else to blame on Hawke.

If she wasn’t careful, she was liable to become downright responsible.

Isabela chuckled at the thought, causing Leliana to glance up her after the opening the door. “One word about how long it took -”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, darling,” Isabela reassured her. “Just a funny thought about responsibility.”

“I didn’t know you even knew the word.”

Leliana slipped into the armory before she could reply, leaving Isabela to guard the hall. She leaned against the wall and twirled her daggers in her hands idly. The whole floor was empty. What few guards there had been were now nursing lumps behind locked doors, cursing themselves for being tricked so easily. The thought made her smile even more.

Guards were always so eager to misbehave when they thought no one was looking.

Leliana slipped back into the hall and shut the armory door behind her, carrying a bow of exquisite quality, if excessively decorated.

“Are you sure the guilding won’t offset the balance and make your shot go wide?” Isabela quipped anyway.

Instead of responding, Leliana whipped the bow up, knocked an arrow, breathed in then out, and loosed. The arrow hit a painting of Fauvier dead center in the forehead.

“You’re right, looks fine to me.”

Leliana smirked and retrieved the arrow as the passed it walking back down the hall.

“They’re liable to search the balcony first once they realize we’re not below. I suggest going up to the top floor and escaping over the roof.”

“I do so love climbing.”

Doors behind them opened. “Hold it right there!”

“Time to run!” Isabela shouted and grabbed Leliana’s hand. They kicked through a door, not bothering to check if it was unlocked or not, the guards giving pursuit.

“Stairs!”

Leliana tugged her to the right and up the stairs and they crashed through the doors onto the fourth floor.

They quickly scanned the hall. No shortage of windows and too many rooms for them to do an effective search. The Master Bedroom was to the left, but that’s _exactly_ where the guards would suspect they’d go. So Isabela jerked Leliana to the right and through another set of double doors that opened up into a library.

It was a shame there wasn’t enough time to check for a rare book or two. Ah, well.

They continued running down the aisles of books and through another set of doors, down the hall into the servants quarters.

“Excellent, love servants quarters, lots of hidden passages and staircases,” Isabela mused as they stopped to get their bearing and listen for further signs of pursuit. She could hear shouting in the distance, but as predicted, it was getting further away as they headed towards the Master Bedroom. That would buy them a few more minutes to make a getaway.

“Over here,” Leliana whispered from the far side of the room hall. “I found a ladder to the roof.”

“Servants have all the best tools at their disposal for thieves to use.”

The hatch was locked. Picking locks above her head was a bitch so instead Isabela grabbed hold of the safety bars on the opposite wall and swung her legs up hard. It crashed open after a few solid kicks and they were through.

“They’ll have heard that,” Leliana said.

“Guard the hatch, I’ll look for a way across to the front.”

She nimbly ran across the smoothly sloping tiles, looking for a place to latch her grappling hook so they could swing down.

“Isabela, you better hurry!” Leliana’s shouted warning was coupled with the snap of her bow.

“Shit!”

Nothing was immediately available. They were up too high for her grappling hook. She knew she shouldn’t have let Varric borrow her good one. Maker only knew what he was doing with it.

The sounds of Leliana drop-kicking someone through the hatch reached her ears, making her grin despite the circumstances.

There was _one_ way. Extremely stupid, but their only real bet at the moment.

“I found something!” she shouted over her shoulder. She ran along the edge and hooked the grappling hook, kicking it down with her boots to make sure it was secure. The thought of puncturing holes in the pretty Orlesian tiles did wonders for her mood.

Leliana skidded to a halt next to her, bow still up. “I don’t think we have enough time to climb down!”

“We’re not climbing!”

Before Leliana could protest, Isabela hooked her arm around her waist and ran, leaping off the edge at the last moment, using their momentum to swing them out as wide as possible.

“Andraste’s flaming knickers, are you mad?”

Isabela laughed in response as her boots just barely managed to land on the side of a decently lewd Orlesian statue, softening the impact. Leliana climbed up first, followed by Isabela, while people in the garden shouted below them, surprised at their sudden entrance.

“Get ready to roll!” Isabela warned as she tugged the grappling hook down, bringing the lovely tile down with it. It crashed into the ground, sending shards scattering over the garden floor and into the pond.

Isabela braced Leliana against her back so she could aim her bow and take down the guards while she swung the hook out for the next flying attempt.

Perhaps this hook wasn’t so bad after all.

Hawke was gonna be so jealous when she got home and told her all about this night’s adventures. Might even make Isabela take her out moonlighting on the roofs of Kirkwall. Isabela certainly wouldn’t object, especially not if it ended with them tumbling into someone else’s bed without their knowledge.

“That was my last arrow!” Leliana said, a soft thwang emphasizing her remark.

“That’s ok,” Isabela replied. She grabbed hold of Leliana’s waist again and pushed off the statue.

They crashed onto the garden floor, rolling over the smooth stones. Her shoulder burned with the impact as she skidded to a halt and jumped to her feet. That was _definitely_ going to leave a bruise.

Leliana was already up, daggers out in both hands again, bow discarded at her feet.

“Maybe those Orlesian shoes aren’t as bad as I thought,” Isabela muttered. Leliana grinned. “You’re gonna have to tell me how you do that.”

“Only if you show me how you hid a grappling hook in your trousers.”

Isabela winked at her. “Oh, I’ll show you more than that.”

“This way!” a guard shouted. Isabela tugged the hook free and looped it over her shoulder, taking off behind Leliana as she ran through the garden, jumping over hedges in her dress. She managed to make it look like the most natural thing in the world.

There was something to be said for bard training.

A guard jumped out in front of her and Isabela ducked beneath the swing of his sword, loosening the sash at her waist and retrieving one of her throwing knives. The guard spun around to locate her, anger evident in his posture that he’d been so easily dodged.

Really, would they _ever_ learn that swinging wide was the slowest maneuver? Especially with a broadsword as thick as her leg.

She loosed her knife and hit her mark square in the arm, causing him to drop his sword as he bit back a curse. Isabela was on him before he could so much as blink, sash around his neck, head pressed against her chest. The only comfort he was likely to receive in the near future. Within seconds he was unconscious on the ground at her feet. She kicked his sword away into the bushes. Better he didn’t have that in case he woke up and gave chase. She also retrieved her dagger before running off.

Leliana was crouched at the top of the garden wall, hand outstretched to give Isabela a boost. Isabela gladly accepted the aid and jumped, pulling herself up the wall. They dropped down the other side, safely off the grounds of the mansion, but not safely out of the reach of the guards.

“Blast, I left my sash behind.”

Leliana rolled her eyes, slipping along the edge of the wall towards the front of the grounds.

Guards shouting on the other side prevented them from communicating further, but then again, following someone down the side of the walk didn’t exactly require tactical prowess. Only when the shouts grew more distant as Isabela and Leliana left the garden portion behind did she move up next to Leliana.

Hawke would have _loved_ this. Isabela could just imagine all the wisecracks that would slip through her lips, forcing Isabela to stop their progress so she could kiss her roughly against the wall.

Just thinking about it make her miss Hawke that much more. The two week trip back to Kirkwall was going to be agony.

Once they left the mansion completely behind them, Isabela sighed with relief. Not that the night wasn’t fun, but her back was aching from slamming into that statue feet first and she wanted the maker forsaken corset mashing her breasts down _off_.

“How long till you figure they realize we’re gone?” she asked Leliana idly as they rounded the street corner. The sight of their inn was a welcome one indeed.

“I imagine they’ve already discovered as much.”

“Fauvier isn’t going to be happy once he realizes what we took.”

Leliana grinned. “He’ll be too busy hiring guards to protect him to bother looking for us. He’ll suspect the Seekers are after him. Not too far from the truth.”

“But you’re not a Seeker.”

“No, but after tonight, his suspicions will be correct.”

They crossed the threshold of the inn, waving away the innkeeper, and headed straight for their rooms. Isabela’s hands were already under her shirt, tugging at the laces on her corset to free her breasts. She’d completely ripped it free by the time they reached their room and tossed it behind her. She didn’t want to look at it again.

“Well, well, look who the cat dragged in,” a familiar voice exclaimed as soon as Leliana and Isabela stepped inside their room. Leliana’s dagger was out in an instant. Isabela stifled a laugh and laid her hand on Leliana’s arm, pressing her down.

Hawke lounged in the chair by the fireplace, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She looked radiant in the firelight.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were _jealous_ ,” Isabela replied.

“Beautiful redhead, fancy room in Orlais, infiltrating a noble’s mansion,” Hawke straightened in the chair, “I’m feeling downright left out.”

“What in the blazes are you doing in Orlais?”

“Had my own beautiful redhead that needed help infiltrating a mansion and retrieving something of a delicate nature. Then I heard you were in the neighborhood, getting up to no good.” Hawke clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Maybe I should be the jealous one.”

“Yours as sassy as mine was?”

“Chantry hasn’t ruined her yet.”

“This is Hawke?” Leliana interjected. The dagger was gone, tucked away up that green dress of hers.

“Indeed,” Hawke replied, finally rising from the chair to greet them properly. She held out her hand to Leliana. “Hawke. Just... Hawke.”

Leliana accepted Hawke’s hand doubtfully. “That’s your name?”

“You know,” Isabela started, and Hawke turned her head so fast she should have gotten whiplash, “it really isn’t. Do you wanna know what it _really_ is?”

“Isabela,” Hawke warned, fire dancing in her eyes.

Leliana glanced at Hawke and grinned. Oh this was definitely amusing. “Absolutely.”

“It’s actually really, remarkably adorable.”

By all rights, Isabela should have burnt to a crisp the way Hawke was staring at her. She carried on anyways.

“ _Chloe_ Hawke.”

Leliana squealed in delight and clapped her hands. “No!”

Isabela nodded emphatically, grinning, which only made Leliana turn and look at Hawke as if she was the cutest thing in the room.

“You call me Chloe and _there will be blood_.”

Isabela reached out and caressed Hawke’s cheek. “Darling, it’s sweet when you threaten people. Gets me all riled up.”

There was a thought, actually. Naming her ship Chloe would certainly infuriate Hawke, but in all the right ways and it would be so worth it just to see the look on her face. Better than naming it _The Champion_. Besides, then she could officially say she rode Chloe _all the time_. The looks on peoples faces would _definitely_ be worth _that_.

It would have to be a ship that looked nothing at all like it should be named Chloe, much like its namesake. Isabela could work within those parameters.

“Tell me you forgot to get a room and we have to take you in like the vagrant you are.”

“I’m homeless in Orlais,” Hawke replied.

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

Hawke peered over Isabela’s shoulder, pointedly looking at the one bed in the room. “Is the bed big enough for all three of us?”

“I wasn’t sure Hawke shared,” Leliana said, seemingly innocent words except for the suggestive expression on her face that made Isabela grin, remembering the last time she’d shared a bed with her. That had _definitely_ been a night to remember.

“One pretty little redhead already got my knickers riled, can’t resist another.”

Isabela crushed Hawke in a kiss, hands fumbling at the laces on her pants while others tugged at her shirt. This night would be even better.


End file.
